


Caged

by Jo (jmathieson)



Series: Tangents and Intersections ~ Kink Bingo 2013 [11]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Cages, Community: kink_bingo, Confinement, Inappropriate Erections, M/M, Pre-Slash, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-16
Updated: 2013-07-16
Packaged: 2017-12-20 09:06:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/885480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jmathieson/pseuds/Jo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint and Phil are captured and held in very close quarters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Caged

**Author's Note:**

> Kink Bingo Round Six (2013) ~ Confined/Caged

"We are never going to live this down," muttered Clint Barton, as he worked his left hand into his pants pocket, "A bunch of two-bit drug runners getting the drop on a couple of SHIELD's top agents, we'll be the laughing stock of the Christmas Party." 

"Anything, Barton?" asked Coulson, his voice tight.

"No. For two-bit drug runners, they were very thorough."

It should have been a totally routine mission, but then again, it was always the totally routine ones that ended up being the biggest clusterfucks. That was Phil Coulson's experience, anyway. In this case, he and Barton had been searching a warehouse building, a warehouse building that was supposed to be the headquarters of a very large and very dangerous drug trafficking operation. 

Except that the last thing either of them remembered was going into a room that looked like an office, and then they woke up... caged. Caged and stripped of anything they could possibly have used to escape. Their guns, comm units, belts, shoes, socks, shirts, Clint's throwing knives, Phil's lock picks, and the contents of their pockets had been taken. According to the inventory that Clint was just finishing of his left pocket, the two of them had their pants and underwear, and nothing else. And that wasn't actually their most pressing problem...

The cage was meant for one person. Or maybe it was meant for two dogs or two dozen chickens, but all Clint knew was that it would have been an adequate amount of space for one medium sized man, but it was nowhere near enough for two. Phil and Clint were squashed uncomfortably close together, legs tangled, chest-to-naked-chest. Moving their heads required a coordinated effort so as not to bash each other in the nose. 

"Recee, Barton. Can you see anything that gives us any useful information?"

Happy to have something other than his discomfort to concentrate on, Clint started to examine where they were being held. The cage was suspended six feet off the ground from a hook attached to some machinery mounted on the ceiling. Clint followed the rails, and spotted the wires and controls for the winch. Not that that was going to do them any good. He said as much to Coulson.

"Anything else?"

Clint looked some more, straining his eyes into the dark corners, carefully checking every inch of the walls.

"Sorry boss, nothing that I can see. Any ideas?"

"Let me think." 

Clint took a breath and tried to relax, but the simple act of breathing made him acutely aware of the fact that he was pressed chest-to-chest with Coulson. Coulson's skin was warm and soft against his, and the fuzz of Coulson's chest hair dragged across Clint's nipples every time one of them shifted inside the cage. For all the time Clint had spent sitting next to Phil in cars and bars and conference rooms and on rooftops, he'd never had this close a view of the strong jaw, and the deep blue eyes.

He closed his eyes to at least eliminate the visual, and tried desperately to think of something else. But then he started to feel the solid steel bars of the cage pressing further into his back, as if the cage was somehow getting smaller. Clint carefully didn't panic. Instead he opened his eyes and looked up, but he couldn't see any mechanical device that might be making the sides of the cage move. He listened, but there was no sound except their breathing. Clint realized that he was pushing his own back harder and harder into the bars behind him in a futile attempt to stop his skin from rubbing against Phil's.

"Um, boss? Something I need to say." Clint's voice was a welcome distraction from what was going through Phil's head.

"Go ahead, Barton."

"I... uh... I don't think I'm gonna be able to avoid uh... reacting to this uh... situation. I'm sorry if that makes you uncomfortable."

"By 'reacting' you mean... physically."

"Yeah." Admitting it somehow made it a little easier to deal with, and Clint was able to relax a fraction.

Keeping himself under control was something Phil Coulson had always been good at. The years of hiding his sexual orientation, first as a teenager, and then in the army, had made him an expert at ignoring his own desires. But this... situation... was too much even for him. Pressed up against Clint's bare chest (Phil couldn't manage to think of him as 'Barton' right now), feeling the warmth of his skin and the press of the solid muscular frame into his, Phil struggled for some shred of self-control. He felt the steel bars at his back and wrapped his fingers around one of them, trying to draw strength from the unyielding metal. 

'Caged,' he thought. 'Trapped with him, and with what I'm feeling for him. Maybe this is the universe's way of slapping me upside the head,' Phil thought.

"If it makes you feel any better, Specialist, I'm not entirely in control of my own physical responses right now."

Clint swallowed. "Not sure you should have told me that, boss."

"You were going to figure it out on your own pretty soon anyway."

And sure enough, Clint could feel Coulson's dick twitching against his thigh. His own cock jumped in response and he both heard and felt Phil's sharp intake of breath. 

'We're gonna be in big trouble in a minute, here,' Clint thought, as he looked away, unwilling to meet Phil's eyes.

"Barton," Phil took a breath and his voice softened, "Clint... It's going to be OK." 

"Good to know, boss. Thanks." Clint relaxed a little. If Phil said it was going to be OK, then it was. Phil had never lied to him. "Phil, I..." Clint started, not entirely sure what he wanted to say, but he was spared from having to figure it out when Phil jabbed his thumb hard into Clint's leg. A half-second later, Clint heard the sound of metal scraping against metal as the warehouse door was heaved open, and a familiar figure came in, weapon in hand.

"It's about time, Sitwell. Get us down from here!" Coulson wasn't yelling, but his voice was as shrill as Clint had ever heard it.

"Gee I don't know, you two look awfully cozy in there. Are you sure you don't want..."

"Jasper." Phil's voice held menace that threatened dire repercussions.

"Have you out of there in a jiffy," said Sitwell, grinning and heading for the winch.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks always to my patient and understanding editor t!
> 
> Find me on Tumblr at: [Queen of Wands](http://jmathieson-fic.tumblr.com/)


End file.
